Super Smash Bros G
by SpaceEmperorGiegue
Summary: From the depths of space comes a harbinger of doom, the name of which has not been spoken for ages… When "He" arrives, things will never again be the same…
1. Prologue: Day Zero

_Prologue:  
Day Zero_

It is said that there is no sound in a vacuum, and no place better illustrated that than __Final Destination__. The oxygen was negligible here in the void, a most inhospitable place. There was no Earth below or sky above, just a lavender-tinted emptiness stretching for miles. The lack of audible sound only made the stage more eerie. Outside of the gaseous nebula clusters and shooting stars that seemed too far away to be real, the only solid mass was a brick platform suspended in the void.

One might have mistaken the high-pitched whistling to be incoming space debris, only this flaming mass was far larger than the distant falling stars. Within seconds, the mass crashed into the platform, sending shards of brick and glass flying everywhere. Black smoke rose from the massive impact crater, obscuring the broken form within.

From above, a deathly white figure descended. Two bulbous eyes glowed a bright red through the smoke and dust like kindled embers. "__You have caused me far too much trouble__," came a telepathic rasp like a murder of crows from the depths of hell. Within the crater, something groaned in agony. As the smoke cleared, one could see massive fingers, twisted and broken. They spasmed and curled involuntarily, each movement causing the grievous injuries to weep a viscous, black ichor. The dust settled finally, revealing the two combatants.

The glowing red eyes were set on either side of a sleek, tapered vulpine head which peeled open at the snout, revealing a single row of massive, shark-like teeth. Smooth, plastic skin like a cetacean stretched over the emaciated frame, warping around the prominent collarbone and ribs like the membrane of a drum. The extremities were long and slender, ending in vaguely humanoid hands and feet. A thin tail twice the length of the body whipped about. The cat-like head craned down mockingly at its victim.

Within the crater, broken and bloody, was what appeared to be a massive, disembodied white hand, fading into ether at the wrist. By way of some occult power, the hand summoned the will to right itself, levitating in the air to meet its opponent at eye-level. Though its lips and tongue remained motionless, the wraith's telepathic voice filled the void. "__There is still some fight left in you, is there?__" The injuries sustained by the carpal demiurge still wept. Though its ocular organs were not obvious, its vision clouded. It truly was a pitiful sight. This was once the god of this trans-universal realm.

Soon, he would be just another victim.

The carpal deity folded two of his fingers inward, firing off a barrage of menacing golden bullets at his assailant, but the wraith merely deflected each wave with little obvious effort. Raising its arms, it taunted Master Hand with a demonic chuckle. The demiurge splayed himself out, ignoring the waves of pain coursing through his broken form, and hurled himself towards the cat-like demon. Inconceivable tendrils of energy burst forth from the wraith's outstretched hand, crucifying the demiurge where he hovered and pinning him to the ground. Acrid smoke curled from the entry and exit points as Master Hand was cooked from the inside. He had no voice left to scream, though he still tried to arch himself to face his assailant. "__You have delayed my conquest significantly__," the wraith spoke into the deity's mind. Around his numerous wounds, Master Hand's substance began to char, though the demiurge could only muster a rattle in his agony.

Its feet touching the platform for the first time, the wraith gracefully toed towards its victim, still summoning the deadly bolts of psychokinetic energy from its hand. "__You do not even come close to my power.__" The wraith paused, looking down to see its feet wet, stained black by its opponent's ichor. Taking advantage of the distraction, the tips of Master Hand's fingers glowed with a celestial brilliance. Breaking free of his bonds, Master Hand rocketed towards his assailant, only to be stopped by a protective barrier radiating mere inches from the demon's body. As the power faded from Master Hand's fingertips, the demon stared unblinkingly, not even remotely phased by this affront to its might.

Instead, he grabbed onto the deity's index finger and effortlessly tore it from its foundation. A piercing shriek filled the demon's curled ears as it held the severed appendage in its delicate hands. The carpal demiurge threw himself backwards in agony, continuously shrieking as his entire essence was overcome with pain. His vitality slipping, he could hardly recall how this rather slight-looking beast had entered his domain and made such short work of him. His mind instead wandered to his greatest joy in life, sparring with heroes of renown, and even villains. Never had he been bested in battle with such cruelty and ruthlessness. Never had he needed to fight at full power. __Never…__

The first blow came, jolting the demiurge back to his cruel reality. Then the second, and more blows began landing with lightning speed. At first, he thought his impaired vision had betrayed him, but he came to realize this demon was bludgeoning him with his own severed appendage. Like klaxon alarms in a submarine, unbearable pain throbbed from the stump of Master Hand's index finger, the rest of which the demon carelessly tossed away. Stalking towards him on all fours, the wraith bared its monstrous teeth, coming to sink them deep into the fallen deity's substance. Belying its size, the creature flung its head and tossed the massive hand in the air. A leathery purple tongue flicked out of the demon's mouth, licking the black vitality from its teeth and snout.

The deity crashed down at the demon's feet, sending more splintered brick and stone into the air. With its mind, the wraith-like figure willed the shattered platform apart, splintered brick and stone coalescing into a crucifix shape. It raised its hand and summoned forth incomprehensible bolts of alien energy, levitating the fallen deity into the air effortlessly and affixing him to the blasphemous construct. Its nostrils flared at the odor of burning flesh as it watched the substance of the demiurge bubble and melt, fusing it to the cross. Telekinetically planting its morbid display firmly into the platform, the demon lifted its snout, proud of its profane masterpiece. The massive hand continued to twitch involuntarily, his palm heaving with effort. The demon contemplated his foe. The god of this multiverse hung before him, dying on the cross, disgraced and broken. The fight was brief, cruel and knew no honor. All around them, dark clouds began to envelop the stage, crackling with lightning and thunder.

The display meant nothing to the sadistic vulpine.

It stood before the slipping deity, emotionless eyes combing over the curls of acrid, black smoke coming off his enemy's flesh. Some of that flesh formed hellish webs between the deity himself and the purple and yellow icon he was transfixed to. A gash on the deity's palm drew the demon's curiosity. It slipped a single hand into the wound, and the cacophonous thunder seemed to grow even louder. The vulpine wraith recalled his hand, dripping with red-tinted ichor. It opened its mouth to speak, carefully articulating around the forked tongue and shark-like teeth.

"__Blessed are those who have not seen, yet have believed.__"

The supernatural weather had grown to apocalyptic proportions, though the demon stood unfazed. The swirling smoke and detritus could not mask the blood red, unblinking eyes of the wraith, its deathly white skin illuminated by each spark of lightning. Its blood-stained hand shot downwards like a scythe, tearing a rift between dimensions. Disappearing into the void, the wraith's face contorted into a curved, hideous smile. The rift closed, leaving the corpse of Master Hand crucified on his own home stage.

The clouds billowed. Thunder clapped, lightning shot into the air. The very universe seemed to roar in agony. It would soon be known that the creator of this universe was no more, and his murder would set off a doomsday clock ticking ever closer to the eventual end of the entire world. Its effects would come to pass, even now as __Final Destination__ is obscured in black smoke. No one would be able to escape it.

Yet, even in the din which heralded the dawn of the apocalypse, it still seemed so quiet, so empty.


	2. The Lost World: Day One

_The Lost World:  
Day One_

The sun bearing down upon the white sands of this beach were too much even for the tiny side-stepping crabs to bear, burrowing into the mud near the water's edge. The other fauna inhabiting this island didn't seem to mind it, however.

Flocks of albatrosses with brilliant red plumage fought squawking seagulls for aerial dominance. Far below, monstrous caterpillars the size of rail cars skittered across the sand, careful to avoid the rather queer-looking but territorial duck-like creatures that waded near the dunes. Troops of turtles with vibrant shells like rubies and emeralds sunbathed on a cluster of rocks to the sound of dolphins chattering. Swarms of dragonflies darted from the beach towards the dense jungle, occasionally stopping to rest upon the crowns of the reeds surrounding a small, swampy lake. On the ground, an __eryops__ waddled towards the fetid body of water, a muskrat struggling in its jaws. Satisfied with its catch, the frog-like reptile slipped into the mossy water, only to be then swallowed whole by an amorphous blue mass with menacing eyes and fangs. The disturbed dragonflies hovered in figure-eights near the reeds, while a troop of spider monkeys made their way through the jungle canopy above, careful to avoid the tendrils of the toothed, carnivorous plants which occasionally descended for food from below.

The tall mountain peaks near the center of the island where the jungle canopy broke were home to a different kind of commotion, and the sounds of primitive war were maddening.

With their children and womenfolk fleeing into the jungle by the dozens, the troop of masked villagers charged forward with their spears. On the opposite side of the clearing stood a pack of vestigially-winged pygmy __carnotaurus__-like creatures—awful Rexes—which had raided their village, snarling as they advanced to meet their prey in combat, hides glistening in the sun like shards of lapis lazuli. The hooting war chants of the tribesmen were deafening, clashing with the dragons head-on. Both man and beast fell, often in agony. One __carnotaurus__ found itself skewered from the front and from behind, while another snatched the arm of an opposing warrior. The villagers' captive animals also fought for their lives, clumsily dashing every which way. Tapirs and pigs found themselves in the vice-grip jaws of the dragons, while the riding ostriches stood a better chance, if still brief, against their attackers, pecking and scratching with huge, scaly talons. The hooting seemed to grow fiercer even as the tribe's forces were dwindling, as spears still continued to rain down upon the fierce dragons. A riding ostrich sliced one __carnotaurus__ across the eyes, eliciting a shriek from the monstrous reptile. The flightless bird suddenly found itself pounced by a number of nearby dragons, vanishing in a flurry of pink and black feathers, reptilian scales and its own gore. One lance-wielding warrior heaved his spear directly through the skull of one dinosaur, sending it crashing to the ground. When he went to retrieve his lance, he found himself missing an arm as three of the dragons cornered and quartered him.

Far away from this mass slaughter, an injured villager limped into a dark cave, a trail of blood marking the path behind her. The temple of her people was lit dimly by slits in its roof through which filtered only the slightest sunlight. Thick cobwebs hung from stone effigies of local fauna. The maiden leaned her weight against a stone sphere with wild eyes and shark-like teeth as leering masks seemed to watch her shambling movements. Generations of pictographs decorated the limestone walls, and she ran her hand across them mournfully. The maiden was the most pitiable sight, with her twisted ankle and tattered robes. Her mask was missing, and dried blood caked her exposed face. In another circumstance, she might have been seen as rather comely. But here, stumbling before the stone statue of a hulking figure with menacing tusks, she cried out to her gods in her language.

The masks suddenly sprang to life through some unknown manner and flew around the chamber, the air rushing through them filling the room with an eerie whistle. They glowed with a supernatural light as the woman continued her prayers, and even the statues themselves seemed to move. Her mind flashed with images of the raptors tearing through her village, the faces of all the innocents slaughtered, the hooting of the menfolk as they chucked their spears and lances. She reached up to touch her own face and, realizing her mask was missing, wept bitterly. Suddenly, the entire chamber filled with the whistling of the masks, and a brilliant light exploded from its depths, spilling out towards its entrance.

A furious roar echoed down from the mountains and shook the entire island.

Back at the slaughtered village, the Rex pack leader snarled, mucus flying from its nostrils. The others lifted their horned snouts from their slain meal, looking at each other and the sky with a degree of innocent confusion. Surely they had heard thunder, but high above, there were no clouds or rain, only flocks of birds of all varieties casting a rainbow across the sky—a rainbow headed away from the mountain. The cacophony of their distress seemed louder than a jet engine.

Above the pack's heads, troops of spider monkeys chattered violently, dodging the jaws and thorny vines of the carnivorous plants living in the jungle's canopy. Jaguars ran alongside tapirs, each paying no mind to the other as both animals dashed from the bushes towards the water's edge. The fierce eyes of the Nep-Enut whose gaze menaced the swamp now retreated, cowardly, below the algae. The crocodiles basking along the edge of the bank hastily darted into the water. The entire forest seemed to flee in the wake of what was coming, the desperate and miserable sounds of their bewilderment—all of the shrieking, honking, braying, growling—seemed to overtake the entire island.

The gluttonous Rexes flapped their tiny wings anxiously, backing away from their kills and looking at one another as though waiting for some kind of order or permission to flee. Most stood their ground, blood and offal still dripping like egg yolk from their snouts, preferring their strength in numbers even as a few juveniles chose to desert. Whatever had sent the fauna of this tropical hell running from the hills was fast approaching, just beyond the clearing, in fact.

A raw, pungent odor wafted through the air, simultaneously threatening and sickening the pack of ravenous reptiles. Their kill devoured, their battle won, it was __fear__ which kept the beasts fixed where they stood. All the smart animals had since fled, but these pygmy __carnotaurus__ thought only with their stomachs. Sniffing the air, one of the scaly beasts approached the edge of the clearing, trying to identify what this massive, smelly threat could be, only to have its skull crushed by a large fist.

On the other side of the island, another creature stirred. Moving beneath the remains of what was once a great stone castle, a great monster struggled to rise onto its hind legs. Shaking off the toxic dust which blanketed its horrible form, the beast looked like something out of a book of mythology. Two curved horns were split by a red mane. Its face was purely that of a devil, its mouth lined with double rows of shark-like teeth dripping with venom. A heavy, spiked shell on the monster's back kept it hunched over, even with legs as thick as concrete pillars. Broken chains hung from its neck and wrists, and a thick, short tail swung behind the beast.

The area was blanketed by a thick cloud of smoke and dust, though this castle had collapsed long ago. How long had this beast been unconscious here? Weeks? Months? A low grumble came from its throat, which turned into a hacking cough as more smoke burst from the monster's throat. The sound turned into an earth-shaking roar, one which demanded a response. Up above the dragon's head, a distortion caught its blood-red eyes. From the distortion, a small, craven figure appeared, hovering in the air by some mysterious occult power. Equally as hideous, this reptilian descended and bowed to the larger monster, its tattered blue robes obscuring much of its scaly form. A forked tongue struggled to produce human language over rotting fangs and gums which dripped with pus. "My __liege__," the horrible serpent hissed, "what a __travesty__ it is to see you this way…" It bowed further, glassy eyes hidden behind warped spectacles with cracked lenses. The larger monster only stared down at the genuflecting sycophant, irritated more by a pain in its gums than the puny lizard before him. The beast's maw opened wide as though to eat the cowardly wizard, but instead his long claws reached towards the back of his own mouth, scraping something jagged and hard loose. The offending object launched forward, landing before the blue-clad Magikoopa. The craven wizard's head came off the ground, reaching out with gnarled claws to inspect the object. "Oh, my, _yes_," it chittered gleefully, before letting out a high-pitched whimper, "__this __is quite interesting."

It turned over the sapphire brooch in its arthritic claws. The larger monster sort of yawned as though disinterested.

"Don't you worry about __that__, sire, you've got sweeter meals in your future," the clothed serpent hissed, "though I would not recommend any more of these"—it waved the brooch like a parent scolding a child—"else you'll get indigestion." Once again, he bowed, before addressing his master again. "I have __assembled__ for you a great army, one which approaches this worthless atoll as we speak. Yes, the __finest__ I could conjure." The craven serpent rubbed his hands together. "__Nothing__ is too good for you, my liege.

"But yes, it would seem as though the _'___god'__ of this island has __awakened__, and a great battle has commenced many miles from here." Still picking his teeth, the larger monster now focused his beady eyes on the smaller creature, black soot bursting from his nostrils in a bullish snort. Strips of pink tulle dangled from his claws. "We must leave here at once. Your dream of conquest is finally becoming reality," the craven wizard hissed. The dragon merely lobbed another hunk of __something__ at the feet of the groveling nuisance. Picking it up in his hands, he began bashing its edges on a nearby stone, attempting to restore the object's shape as best he can. "Such simple tasks are so __difficult__ without my wand," the Magikoopa chittered. Ascending into the air, he placed the smelly, dented hunk of metal—a golden crown—on his master's head. "__Yes__, most __proper__, for the king of the Mushroo—"

The craven wizard was sent flying from a monstrous backhand, and the crown was tossed at his crumpled body. Ancient lungs struggled to inflate beneath cracked ribs as the robed reptilian wheezed, spitting up blood and bile. Even in his condition, Kamek still cowered before his master, begging forgiveness. "__Forgive __me, m-__master!__ I d-d-did not s-s-__seek __to off-off-off_end_…" Now the dragon's forked tongue clumsily ran over sharp, serrated fangs, raspily articulating in a baritone bellow. "You… __bore__… me," the mighty beast rasped, before crushing the nuisance under a massive, saurian foot. Blood and offal burst from the wizard's gasping mouth before his entire body mysteriously exploded in a puff of black smoke. Inhaling the smoke, the dragon seemed to be energized by the dark occult energy released.

__A true king needs not a crown or an army__, the beast thought to himself as he stomped off towards the jungle. Yet, whether or not he wanted it, the cavalry was coming. Little did the dragon know, however, that something even greater than him would soon awaken.


End file.
